re_alignment | [Video]

Entry tags:

tf: g1 | thundercracker

[Video]

I'm assuming you people are working on ways to "fix" what's happened and get the . . . the "us" who were here before returned.

So what happens to the "us" who are here now, assuming you're successful?

[He bristles, mismatched wings twitching.]

Because I am NOT. GOING. BACK.

[He starts to turn off the feed, but hesitates . . . and finally adds.]

Also . . . a medic willing to work on a Seeker. I need to find one. [Because he's still all beaten to crap like he was that first day.] That is all.

[Now he shuts off the feed.]

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I understand your frustration completely, believe me.

And you could see Red Alert. I'd recommend Barricade or Ambulon if not her, but they seem to have lost their minds and gone apeshit, so I doubt they'd be much help.

. . . gone where?

[And who are you? Scratch that, WHAT are you? - this Thundercracker has never seen humans or even heard of before, at least not before finding himself here and going through some of the archives. But . . . he has /some/ grace left in him after everything he's been through - he knows when to keep his questions and insults to himself if it means he might gain something later. Information, in this case.]

I see. Red Alert is that femme medibot who posted recently?

[She's told him to go see her too, but like the PIT was he just going to waltz over someplace and submit himself some stranger.]

. . . my name is Thundercracker, by the way.

[This is him being "social".]

[Aw, c'mon, TC. He's been around here a while! Look at his cranky face~]

Apeshit. Insane. Out of their minds. Crazy. Pick your poison.

And, yeah, the lady medic. If she can't help you, you could try Knock Out, but he also seems to be slipping a little, too.

[Well, two can play at this game!] Thundercracker, huh? Name's McCoy.

McCoy. [nods, acknowledging the name.] Have you been here long?

Long enough. [He knows exactly how long, too. Eeugh.] First person to buy a ticket once we figure out a way to get back to our home worlds.

'Willing' to work on a Seeker?

Thundercracker, with you looking like that, I'd like to see you try and stop me from repairing your broken-down aft.

[Bristly cat-medic is bristly, and already gathering his tools in a frenzy.]

What's your slagging location?

[Thundercracker stares back for an instant, not sure which to address first: the "you're a medic?.../how/??" part or the "you know me?" part. Oh…wait…didn't Warp mention something about a "cat" medic? He opts for the latter.]

You know me?

…hmn. Must be the "other" me. The free one.

What do you want for your services, medic?

Yes, yes. I'm familiar with 'a Thundercracker' which may or may not be an alternate universal version of you.

[He only pauses in his gathering once, to give the mech on the screen a incredulous, vaguely insulted glare.]

I. Am a. Medic.. A proper one.

Given that we're not exactly starving for energon or lacking in supplies here, I don't even need a cube as payment.

So. Location?

[Thundercracker scowls at the irritated tone…not that he's not LONG used to it. At least the cat's not being insulting. Finally he nods and pings his location.]

Good. On my way.

[And off he goes, once he cuts the feed. It takes him a little bit to get there, traveling between temples on four legs and all, but eventually the sound of a paw clanging on the door accompanies a ping.]

::Medical officer Glit reporting. So open the slaggin' door.::

[The door opens easily enough. He's actually in Alpha Trion's library, gaze roving over the numerous tomes of knowledge lost and forgotten. He turns at the sound of the door opening, though not before Glit gets a good look at his back. Actually, his front isn't looking that great either.]

Master Glit.

[He...doesn't even realize all of what he just said, merely giving the medi-cat a nod of acknowledgement.]

[Glit only misses a step at the misspoken title, shaking his head as he trots on over and leaps up onto the table nearest to Thundercracker.]

...'Medical Officer Glit' will suffice, if you insist on standing on formalities, though 'Glit' is just fine. Now let me get a good look at you - you're such a mess, I barely know where to start.

[He pulls out a small scanner, raking it over the Seeker's frame to check for internal injuries.]

[Strange . . . so strange . . . but whatever. The Seeker will humor him at worst. And at best? Maybe this quadruped can actually do what he claims he can.]

...Glit, then. [After all, if he doesn't /have/ to use titles...then why do so? If the other is pretty much /telling/ him to act like an equal, he's fragging well going to take advantage of it.]

[He'll shift closer still to the table, turning to face the medi-cat. And the internal damage is almost as extensive as the external, though much of it is more a matter of neglect and poorly-administered prior repairs that have rusted, cracked, are leaking slightly, catching on other parts, or just otherwise in bad shape. There's little to nothing on the Seeker, frankly, that /doesn't/ hurt. He's just learned to live with it and make himself functional in spite of it all.]

Good.

[Glit approves of the change in address, but he can only shake his head as the injury list starts piling up; thankfully for Thundercracker, he is a professional.]

Well. You're going to be here for bit.

[His vast understatement is dryly pronounced, and he whips out a cube from his own storage space, offering the bright pink cube to the seeker.]

Get on the medtable so I can actually reach you, and drink this while you're at it.

[Wry and pushy (but concerned?) he can deal with. It's a nice change from what he's used to. He's fallen rather quiet as the medi-cat looks him over –he /knows/ it's a lot. He can feel it. He's silent as he nods, accepting the cube and settling on the medtable.]

…thank you.

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